These Old Shades (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 1)

The lackeys about the great doorway suddenly sprang to attention.

‘La, are they arriving already?’ cried my lady. ‘Come, child!’ she led the way into the big ballroom, that ran the length of the house. Léonie looked about her appreciatively.

‘Voyons, this pleases me!’ she said, and went up to one of the great baskets of flowers to inspect the frail blooms. ‘We are all very grand, and so is the house. Monseigneur, Rupert is beautiful, is he not?’

Avon surveyed his tall, rakish young brother.

‘Would you call him beautiful?’ he drawled.

‘Devil take you, Justin!’ spluttered his lordship.

A footman stood in the wide doorway, and rolled forth names. Rupert effaced himself, and Lady Fanny went forward.

An hour later it seemed to Léonie that the whole house was full of gaily dressed ladies and gentlemen. She had curtsied a hundred times; she still could hear my lady’s voice saying: ‘I have the honour to present to you Mademoiselle de Bonnard, madame, my brother’s ward.’

Very early in the evening Avon had come to her with a young man beside him: a young man dressed in the height of fashion, with orders on his breast, and a marvellous wig upon his head. Avon had said:

‘My ward, Prince. Léonie, M. le Prince de Condé desires an introduction.’

She curtsied very low; Condé bent over her hand.

‘But mademoiselle is ravissante !’ he murmured.

Léonie rose from her curtsy, and smiled shyly. M. le Prince laid a hand over his heart.

‘Mademoiselle will honour me for this first dance?’ he said.

She thought him a charming boy, no more. She put her hand on his arm, and smiled sunnily up at him.

‘Yes, please, m’sieur. It is my very own ball! Is it not exciting?’

Condé, accustomed to débutantes who were properly bored, was enchanted with this frank enjoyment. The fiddlers struck up, the couples took their places behind him and Léonie.

‘Must we go first?’ she asked confidentially.

‘But yes, mademoiselle, surely!’ he smiled. ‘You lead your very own ball.’

Lady Fanny, standing by the door, touched Rupert’s arm.

‘Who has the child got for partner? It should be a prince of the Blood at least, by the orders! Who is it?’

‘Young Condé,’ Rupert answered. ‘You wouldn’t know him, Fan. He’s only twenty or so.’

‘La, how did Justin get him here so early?’ gasped my lady. ‘He to lead her out! She’s made for life! Look, he’s laughing! Oh, she has captivated him, never fret!’ She turned her head to find Avon behind her. ‘Justin, how did you contrive to get Condé here so early? You’re a wizard, I vow.’

‘Yes, it was well thought of, was it not?’ said his Grace. ‘You will present her next to De Brionne. He is just come. Who is that child with the silver roses on her gown?’

‘My dear, I don’t know! There are so many new faces I protest I cannot remember to whom they all belong! Justin, Condé is enchanted! There’s not a man in the room will not hasten to Léonie’s side having seen him so enraptured! Ah, madame!’ She rustled away to greet a late-comer.

‘I think I’ll go to the card-room and take charge there,’ said Rupert ingenuously, and prepared to depart.

‘Quite unnecessary, my child,’ said his Grace, barring the way. ‘Hugh has it well in hand. You, boy, will lead out Mademoiselle de Vauvallon.’

‘Oh, lud!’ groaned Rupert, but he moved away to where Mademoiselle was seated.

When next Fanny had leisure to observe Léonie she saw her seated on a couch in an alcove, drinking negus with her partner. The two seemed to be enjoying themselves hugely. Fanny watched, well pleased, and presently, evading the group of young men who were one and all clamouring for an introduction, she took the Comte de Brionne over to the alcove, and presented him. Condé rose, and made a leg.

‘Oh, mademoiselle, you must save one little minute for me later!’ he said. ‘When may it be?’